


Psych

by HelenaHGWells



Category: Luther (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaHGWells/pseuds/HelenaHGWells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's exit interview for the police force includes a conversation with a psychiatrist. Alice thinks this is hilarious.</p><p>A one-shot set after the end of season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psych

John Luther ground his teeth distractedly as he sat in the waiting room, hands thrust deep into his pockets. He understood why lawyers and the HR paper-pushers would demand a psych evaluation as part of an exit interview program. After the number of murders he’d worked, the number of times he’d been suspended, his fiery temper- he understood that they’d be nervous to send him out into the world unsupervised, with their name attached to him.

It was a necessary evil. Tomorrow he’d be on a plane to Borneo. After that, who knew? A string of suggestions had rolled off Alice’s tongue- Nepal, Tibet, Mumbai, Egypt- each punctuated with scintillating details of imagined adventures.

He smiled to himself as he let his mind drift into the fantasy; something he had only just begun to allow himself to do. The goodbyes had been said, the house packed up, tickets purchased. All that remained was to sign on the dotted line.

The ringing of his cell phone jolted him from his reverie. The number he didn’t recognise, but the caller he could predict.

"I’m sitting on a private beach, watching the sun set," her voice crooned. "The air is still and warm again my skin, and crystal-clear water is lapping at my feet."

He smiled into the receiver. “Sounds nice.”

"In my right hand," she continued, "I have a mojito, and in my left, a plate of grilled fish, which I speared myself on the fishing expedition I took this morning."

"I’m sitting in the police shrink’s waiting room, going through the last leg of the bureaucratic nightmare that is leaving the force."

"A psychiatrist!" she exclaimed. "Well don’t tell me they think you’re unhinged?"

"I don’t think there’s any doubt at this point," he countered.

"Don’t worry, if they lock you up in the nut house, I’ll come for you."

The main office door suddenly opened and a bespectacled woman was beckoning for him to come in. “I’ve gotta go.”

"Let me listen in!" came the girlish response.

"No," he smiled, but on impulse, he did not hit the end-call button as he dropped the phone into his pocket, starting into the room after the doctor. The session was purely a formality, but perhaps knowing that Alice was listening would give some meaning to what was otherwise a colossal waste of time. As the hour of his departure grew closer, he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders, and found himself more inclined to indulge Alice; to play with her as she loved to do with him.

The psychiatrist settled into her chair and flipped open her notepad, writing in swift deliberate cursive across the top of the page. Luther watched her warily, perched on the edge of his seat.

Finally the woman spoke.

"Tell me about Zoe."

Luther let out a long breath. “What do you want to know? Zoe was my wife. The love of my life. We were married for twenty years, and then she couldn’t take it any more.”

"She left you?"

"Yes."

"For Mark North."

"Yes."

"Are you still in touch with Mr. North?"

Luther squinted at the question. “We speak from time to time, yes.”

"An odd relationship, don’t you think? Considering the complaints he had made about you in the past. And how he was at one point convinced that you were responsible for Zoe’s death."

"But I wasn’t," Luther felt mildly irritated, both at the psychiatrist for the personal nature of the questions, and at himself for having thought the session would go any differently. "That was Ian Reed."

"Ah yes, and DCI Reed was killed in a confrontation between the two of you, Mark North, and…" she made a show of consulting her notes. "Alice Morgan?"

"It says so in the police report," Luther indicated the folder to which the woman had just referred.

"Why do you think Alice killed DCI Reed?"

"She thought Ian Reed should be punished for killing Zoe."

"Alice liked Zoe?"

"Yes."

"They met?"

"Yes."

"When Alice Morgan attacked her outside her place of work? And when she broke into Zoe’s home? A bit of an odd development, don’t you think?"

Luther shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like the way the woman asked questions to which she clearly knew the answers. And weren’t psychiatrists supposed to ask you how you ‘feel’ about things? This was feeling more like an interrogation.

"Alice cares about the people I care about."

"And why is that?"

"She says we’re the same. Simpatico."

"Are you in love with her?"

He smiled, feeling Alice’s smile as she listened unseen. He sat back in his chair.

"Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know."

The psychiatrist peered at him over her glasses. “And what’s that?”

"You want to know if I know where she is."

"Do you?"

"I think Alice would hate to think that anyone could know where she was unless she wanted them to."

"And you care a lot about what Alice thinks?"

He regarded her warily. The conversation had taken a turn back into the psychological, and he was starting to think he preferred the interrogation.

The woman spoke again.

"I’m a psychiatrist, John, not a police officer. I have no interest in Ms. Morgan’s whereabouts."

"Alright," he said suddenly, sitting up again and leaning his elbows on his legs. "You want to know how I feel about Alice Morgan?"

"I do."

He could picture Alice on the end of the line, listening with bated breath, smile playing across her lips, eyes bright with excitement at her role as the hidden voyeur in this strange new game.

"She’s never mad when I figure out her schemes; she’s never angry that I spoiled her game. Because even though she loves to win, she doesn’t mind when I do. She enjoys it. Because it proves that she was right; that I was the right man. The ideal opponent."

"She enjoys the challenge."

"I think she loves being able to surprise me, but it delights her when she can be surprised."

"You try very hard to live up to her expectations."

"I would hate to disappoint her."

He said it in a tone thick with irony, but he could picture Alice’s wide smile, hearing the meaning that was meant for her in the words he spoke for the police psychiatrist, as he went through those final motions to leave the force, and disappear down the rabbit hole with Alice.


End file.
